


sweaterpaws

by pricklyteeth



Series: sweaterpaws au [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, M/M, Pining, cute soft, does xiukai have a coffeeshop au like proper i dont even know if this even really counts but i tried, easily embarassed shy skater nini, maybe a lil angst in there somewhere, mostly this is confusing puppy love lmao??, side!sexing, side!taesoo, some recreational drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13361331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pricklyteeth/pseuds/pricklyteeth
Summary: Shy skater (wears lots of too big sweaters bc he likes feeling small) Jongin has a big GIANT CRUSH on Minseok, a barista at a local organic cafe. His friends think it's Very Suspicious that he's spending so much time at a cafe when he hates the taste of coffee.





	sweaterpaws

 

oshhh:   
Hey wyd

kjongin:   
café

oshhh:   
again?

Kjongin:   
come thruu

oshhh:   
we’ll see

  
   
Which is Sehun-speak for  _Alright, I’m coming._ There’s probably also an eye roll in there somewhere.  
 

Jongin pops his board as he nears the café, catching it to carry under his arm. He stretches out his free arm, pulling his fingers away from the sleeve of his sweater (he likes them oversized) so he can quickly adjust his bangs with his fingertips in case they got flat or parted weird under his beanie on the ride over.  
   
Taking a second to take a quick calming breath, he pushes the door to the café open, trying not to look too obvious when he scans the coffee shop for Minseok.  
   
It doesn’t take long to spot him.  
   
Minseok is reaching up to grab something from the cabinets behind the counter— _he is_ so _small,_ Jongin thinks—before turning around to get back to the order, measuring out ingredients, flicking switches and looking so focused as he froths the milk.  
   
There’s just something so meticulous about the way he works and holds himself. It’s _captivating_.  
   
It’s only after Minseok pours the latte art and hands it to the waiting customer that Jongin realizes he hasn’t moved much from the doorway, and he’s been staring. Before he can casually walk into the line and pretend that didn’t happen, though, Minseok is looking over curiously, a little smile tugging at his lips.  
   
Jongin tries to smile, but he’s sure it comes out something like a grimace, and then he’s hurrying into the queue so Minseok isn’t just _looking_ at him anymore and Jongin can breathe.  
   
See, the thing is, Minseok doesn’t really know Jongin.  
   
And Jongin doesn’t really know Minseok, except that he’s here Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and weekends, his hair is really neat all the time, either styled or in a clean ponytail, he’s usually laughing at his coworkers, he has really good work ethic so he’s always busy tidying something up or doing _something_ , and he has the most beautiful smile Jongin has ever seen in his life.  
   
Jongin may or may not have a big giant massively gay crush on him.  
   
He doesn’t know if the opposites attract thing really applies to this, because everything he knows about Minseok is pretty superficial.  
   
But he’s a barista that is probably saving up for something, seems to enjoy keeping things in order and probably has like, plans for his life and what he’s doing after this, whereas Jongin is a skater that is only kind of employed (the local thrift shop he works at doesn’t require too much upkeep, and he spends most of his shifts napping).  
   
Jongin’s also currently on academic probation because he keeps majorly fucking up every time he _does_ take classes because he stops showing up and flunks them all. School just makes him feel listless and pointless and nauseous.  
   
He’s directionless and sloppy and Minseok just looks like he has everything figured out. Jongin can’t even be bitter. Minseok just seems like he’s one of those people. The kind that works hard, is diligent and kind and just deserves all good things.  
   
Sometimes he wonders what he’s doing spending all his coins just to see someone’s face when they probably would have zero things in common, and the subject of all his affections probably has no interest in him anyway. Minseok’s way out of his league.  
   
Before that train of thought can really get anywhere though—  
   
“Hey Jongie-Jonginie! Long time no see, what’s it been—two days? Anyway, what would you like? The usual caffè mocha latte?” Jongdae asks, always so smiley and peppy.  
   
Jongin wonders if he’s like that to people who aren’t in the position to tip him. But Jongin _is_ here at least once or twice every week, so maybe Jongdae really is just fond of him.  
   
“Yeah, mocha latte works.” That was the other thing. Jongin hates coffee, but he loves watching Minseok pour latte art.  
   
He pays, dropping his loose change in Jongdae’s tip jar, and then he’s off to enjoy the singular reason for his trips here: watching Minseok make him a coffee.  
   
Okay, that’s a lie. He also watches Minseok as he works too.  
   
There’s just something about how dexterous and skilled Minseok is, tamping the grounds down, clicking them into the espresso machine, wiping things as he finishes with them, having the drip going while he’s frothing the milk (soy, because Jongin is a little lactose). Just watching how he carries himself and pours his focus into every moment of creating a drink, even when there are multiple things going on at once, makes Jongin’s cheeks burn for some reason.  
   
Minseok just seems so on top of everything (and somewhere inside of him, though he will never admit it out loud, Jongin wishes that he was one of those things).  
   
Minseok finishes the mocha off by pouring a microfoam tulip into the chocolate espresso shot, and then he’s setting it on a plate on a little wooden serviette and looking up at Jongin. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.  
   
“Here you go, Jongin,” he says warmly. “I hope you like it.”  
   
Jongin averts his eyes, fingers nervously coming up to play with his shoelace belt. He seriously hopes his cheeks aren’t flaming red right now.  
   
“Uh. Yeah, I will, for sure,” he mumbles, eyes chancing a look up. Bad idea, because Minseok is still there, looking curiously at him. He wishes he could just melt into the floor.  
   
Jongin quickly takes the serviette in his free hand, making his way to his seat in the corner as fast as he can without spilling, ears burning.  
   
Setting his drink down and dropping his backpack into his seat, he flops down, half in the seat and half on the table, staring dejectedly at the mocha instead of hurrying to pretend he came here to read or do some work like he usually does. It feels like it’s mocking him.  
   
‘You can’t even drink me, just like you can’t even talk to your squish’ the drink seems to say.  
   
He runs his skateboard back and forth under his chair with his foot, frustrated at himself. The coffee is right.  
   
But he can’t help it—he’s just so fucking shy, and Minseok’s smile is like the fucking sun?

He pulls his beanie over his face and groans into it, the world looking a little yellow through his closed eyes and threadbare orange beanie.  
   
He can’t wait till Sehun gets here. At least that’ll take his mind off of how painfully embarrassing he is.

 

   
“Your boyfriend looks a little put out today, Minseok,” Jongdae says, sliding over to him when the weird baby afternoon rush dies back down.  
   
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Minseok responds, exasperated. He looks over to where Jongin is seated anyway, before going back to polish the espresso machine.  
   
“But you always seem to know who I’m talking about when I say it,” Jongdae hums, his annoying smug smile curling at his mouth. Minseok doesn’t know who’s worse: him or Baekhyun.  
   
As if he has been summoned, Baekhyun bursts from the backroom, going to lay his cheek on Jongdae’s shoulder.  
   
“I’m bored,” he announces, eyes scanning over the shop out of habit, before noticing Jongin in his corner.  
   
“Minseok’s boyfriend is here, I see.”  
   
Minseok just groans, letting the towel drop to the counter. “Jongin’s just a regular!”  
   
He almost shouts in frustration, but the whirring of the machines and the general buzz of the café covers him. That would’ve been embarrassing.  
   
Jongdae holds up a hand. “Cool it, we don’t need you professing your love at work, _okay_ , it’s unprofessional.”  
   
Baekhyun hops up to lay out on the counter, head propped up by his arm. Minseok is pretty sure some kind of sanitary code is being broken, and he’s going to have to spray the counter down later.  
   
“Yeah,” Baekhyun adds, knees curling toward his chest because counter space is limited. In his wriggling around to get comfortable, he nearly knocks a syrup dispenser on the floor. “A regular who literally never comes here when you’re not around, and also like. Spends his whole time here staring at you, but whatever.”  
   
Minseok scrunches his nose, going to readjust the lineup of dispensers so they’re no longer perilously close to the edge of the counter. “Jongin does stuff. He comes in here to do homework, and-” he looks up, noticing that someone just came in, making a beeline for Jongin’s corner. “And meets with people here.”  
   
Baekhyun raises a brow, looking over. “They’re both so long. Do you think they’re dating?”  
   
Jongdae purses his lips. “Hard to tell. Hipsters are hard to read.”  
   
Both Baekhyun and Minseok squint at Jongdae then, who adjusts his tortoiseshell glasses. “I meant skater-hipsters.”  
   
Minseok rolls his eyes.  
 

 

Sehun stares at him, setting down his mocha. He has foam on his upper lip, and Jongin lifts a hand to remove it, but then Sehun’s licking it off anyway.

“So, why are we here again?”  
   
Jongin rubs a hand over his face. “Well, I was trying to do some reading, you know, grow as a person. But I think I gotta sesh. I’m in a really weird mood.”  
   
Sehun nods. “Let me finish this, and then we’ll go. Honestly, just go to a boba shop or something, you don’t even drink coffee.”  
   
Jongin takes off his beanie, smoothing his hand over his hair before replacing it. “Yeah, you’re right.”  
   
He absolutely does not look up to see what Minseok is up to. If Sehun knew, he’d make his life a living hell.  
   
Sehun tosses the rest of the coffee back and they get up to leave, collecting their things before crossing to the doorway, dropping the trash in the receptacle before setting the serviette on top.  
   
Jongin holds the door open as he looks back to check if they got all of their stuff, and as he does so he catches Minseok’s gaze on him.  
   
It’s only the clatter of Sehun’s board on the ground outside that shakes him out of it, letting the door close as they head for the abandoned building they usually sesh at.

 

  
  
Jongin’s not really landing anything, his brain continuing to conjure up the image of Minseok looking over at him, so they stop, sitting on their boards to light up.  
   
Jongin moves to lay back on his skateboard, staring up at the ceiling of the warehouse, watching the dust motes floating down, highlighted by the afternoon light shining through the rafters. Sehun finishes rolling the joint, folding his knife closed and replacing it in his pocket before looking over at Jongin.  
   
“Lighter?”  
   
Jongin pulls it out of his pocket, holding it out to him while he scrolls through his phone to find something to play. Sik-K’s Ring Ring pops up as he’s scrolling through his tracks, and he taps it, not expecting the melancholy to resonate so much with him.  
   
He lets his phone fall to his chest, going back to staring up at the high ceiling of the warehouse, mouthing the lines.  
   
_Ring ring, ring ring_  
_Ring ring,_  
_Can I hit you up?_  
_Ring ring, ring ring_  
_Ring ring_  
   
Sehun looks over at him after taking the first hit (he rolled, he hits first), an opaque cloud masking the bottom of his face as the smoke escapes his lips before dissipating. Holding the joint out, he purses his lips. “Alright, you said you were in a mood, but you being more moody and dramatic than me is fucking weirding me out, man. What’s up.”  
   
Jongin takes a slow drag, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs before exhaling through his nose. The burn is warm and comforting. Familiar. He takes another shorter puff before passing it back to Sehun.  
   
“Didn’t Yixing say we take turns? Being the moodiest?”  
   
Sehun rolls his eyes. “He’s my boyfriend, he has to say that.”  
   
Jongin’s bottom lip juts out in thought. He can feel his eyelids getting sticky, not wanting to open all the way already. His tolerance has always been pretty blissfully low. “Mm, no, I’m pretty sure he actually believes that.”  
   
Sehun clicks his tongue at him, taking a quick hit. “Stop trying to make me defend my grumpy princess title. Answer the fucking question.”  
   
He blanks. It’s his low tolerance and blippy memory talking. “What was it again?”  
   
“Jesus Christ, Jongin.”

Sehun huffs out a laugh before reaching a leg over to shove at Jongin's board, jostling him. He takes a long hit before lifting the hand holding the joint to gesture lazily at Jongin's person, smoke escaping from his mouth as he speaks. "Your whole ass mood right now. What's this funk about?"  
   
Jongin whines, reaching over for the joint. "It's fuckin stupid, okay, like. Like—it's something stupid that I do, but also it's like everything stupid that I do."  
   
Sehun takes a quick drag before handing it back over to him, brows drawing together. "Okay, first of all, everything we do is stupid. But also, this is probably my cue as your best friend to tell you that it's not a good look to shit on yourself, because like. Everyone does stupid things. That's life."  
   
"Minseok doesn't do stupid things," Jongin mumbles into the joint, and Sehun shouldn't be able to hear, but Sehun has special best friend hearing, which is unfair because Jongin is bad at keeping secrets, especially when he's getting high.  
   
"Who's Minseok?" Sehun asks, pulling out a jelly bar and opening a bag of honey butter chips.  
   
Jongin exhales, flopping back down against his board. "He's this boy. He's just. He's so fucking perfect, he's so tiny, and clean, and everything he does is so—perfect?"  
   
Sehun frowns, biting down on the jellybar before he reaches over to take the joint from Jongin, who's about to hug it to his chest. "So I'm gathering that he's perfect..."  
   
"He's too perfect. It makes me feel like I'm a fucking mess, and like. He'd never want me you know? I'm a fucking loser and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, and-"  
   
Sehun reaches over to shove the jelly bar into his mouth, a slight scowl on his face, displeased with the way Jongin's beating up on himself. "So you really like him."  
   
Jongin nods, biting down onto the jelly bar. "I don't even know him that well either, it's not like you and Xing."  
   
"It's not like I didn't have insecurity stuff when it came to me and Xing, though, like. That's stuff you gotta deal with no matter what. Relationships or even wanting to be with people kinda blows that up sometimes."  
   
Jongin pouts at that. "But I don't wanna deal with it, I don't wanna have to face this shit."  
   
Sehun sighs, smoke blowing out of his nose in tendrils. It makes him look a little like a dragon, and Jongin gets the giggle fits.  
   
Sehun tosses chips at his face until Jongin's expression gets him giggling too. He’s not through giggling before he tries to take another puff, which makes him splutter, coughing while he laughs at himself.  
   
This prompts another giggle fit for Jongin, who falls off his board trying to sit up, which makes the both of them laugh harder. Everything is fuzzy and funny and Jongin doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop giggling but he doesn’t know if he wants to anyway.  
   
Jongin doesn’t know how long they stay out, only vaguely remembering coming home and feeling like he’s subliming in the shower before knocking out. All in all, a very typical Friday for one Kim Jongin.

 

 

 

_Wait…How did you do this? Did you do this right now?_

Oh god, Jongin thinks, watching the tail-end of a campy sci-fi romance between an android and a human he’d scrounged up earlier during his shift, going through some VHS tapes.  
   
It was _so cringey_ , but he also couldn’t stop watching. The human dude just found out he’d been lied to this whole time. Shit was about to go down.  
   
“Hey Jongin?” That was Kibum. His boss. God fucking damn it. “Can you help Yixing sort this shit out? We got a lot of donations out of the blue, and I gotta take this call, and it’ll just be ass over the weekend if we don’t get started now.”  
   
Jongin nods tightly, trying not to pout, getting out from behind the cash register so Kibum can sit. Kibum waves him off, already answering his phone. “Sure thing, Kibum” he mumbles (mostly to himself) as he heads through the honestly labyrinthine columns of various wares, antiques and clothing that make up the inside of the shop ‘Curiosity’.

Jongin would think it was a clever play on words on Kibum’s part if they only carried curios. This place was really just a glorified thrift store: they literally took anything and everything. Although, Jongin guesses that one _could_ argue that there was some curation and oversight in the way that Kibum manages to keep the place looking like the inside of a steampunk novel.  
   
He shoves some errant items back into their shelves and rights some near-toppling towers of vaguely related knick knacks out of habit as he makes his way to the back, where Yixing is sure to be drowning in _even_ _more_ shit that got dumped off earlier. Jongin huffs, ducking under a curtain of velvety feather boas, hanging from an exposed pipe suspended from the ceiling.  
   
It’s not that he necessarily hates this part of his job; most of the time going through and sorting out the things that have been donated is pretty cool, because people get rid of some gnarly, bizarre and fascinating shit. He's mostly just peeved because Kibum has this way of always asking Jongin to do something when he’s in the middle of doing something important: finishing an old shitty film, taking a nap, or building a tower of tacky drinkware, for example.  
   
He loves Kibum but sometimes the dude is such a killjoy.  
   
An obnoxious assortment of clinking and clanking noises sound as Jongin pushes the door to the backroom open, since the door is staple gunned with an objectionable array of jingly things: Christmas ornaments, jangly belts, cheap jewelry, little bells. Jongin used to think it was some strange attempt at security, but he has by now realized that it’s much more likely that Kibum just did it because he was One: bored and Two: unable to part with shiny things no matter how ugly they are and how unsalable their conditions.  
   
“You made it!” Yixing greets, all smiles, popping up from behind a wall of donated designer bags, rolls of linen and piles of various furs.  
   
“I did, didn’t I,” Jongin responds, mouth curling up into a smile, moving to help Yixing with the pile of not-yet distinguishable fabric in his arms.  
   
Yixing has a pencil behind his ear and only one side of his vintage bowling shirt (no doubt found here) tucked into ripped jeans, and his long hair is tied up in a neat but loose bun. Sehun is so lucky. His boyfriend is nice and cute and cares about him and likes him back. He _has_ a boyfriend.  
   
Jongin just has his skateboard and a squish that doesn’t know who he is other than that he’s a regular at his work.  
   
It's just not fair. He's not any more of a mess than Sehun is. Doesn't Jongin also deserve nice things? Like nice, caring, cute boyfriends that wear their hair in ponytails and buns? He certainly thinks so.  
   
They get started working, tossing things into various piles, some for Kibum to sort through himself later, which usually has to happen if they're not sure they're going to keep something or not. Kibum usually finds a way to keep things, but there are times where they really just gotta dump stuff.  
   
The enormous pile of miscellaneous junk starts looking a little less daunting in no time. It helps that they take breaks to show each other weird shit they find, or to do shit like take pictures on the ancient camera Yixing uncovers in the Pile that miraculously still has film and works.  
   
They set it aside after awhile to play with later and to show to Kibum after they're through organizing. They have another period of productivity after that, but that's cut short because they find a creepy doll that has definitely seen better days. It's missing an eyelid, patches of its ceramic skin broken off, its jaw hanging slack. If anything was ever cursed, that doll was definitely one of those things. The both of them take one look at each another before booking it out of there.  
   
They have to have Kibum remove it before they're willing to reenter the backroom, still shaken. Kibum buys them takeout to make up for the trauma.

 

Later, after all of that, Jongin is finally able to get back to his bad scifi film. It's a happy ending. They end up together, big fucking surprise. Jongin isn't sure if he's secretly glad they end up together, or if he's feeling bitter because everyone always ends up together.

Is that the fucking point? That everyone just—ends up together? Does that make everything better?  
   
It's then, in the middle of Jongin having a small internal crisis about how he feels about a campy cheesy sci-fi movie that Yixing comes back to the front, from wherever he'd ended up disappearing to after they'd eaten. Probably off somewhere, rescuing a kitten from a tree or something, the fucking angel.  
   
"Where's the kitten," Jongin asks, grumpy even as he's greeting him.  
   
"Holed up out front, tearing up important papers," Yixing responds, patting Jongin's ass consolingly while also pointedly looking at the nest of torn up receipts and paperwork that Jongin made the front desk.  
   
Jongin smiles sheepishly, and Yixing's hand continues to pat gently.  
   
Butt pats and grabs from Yixing are certainly very standard and normal Yixing, but usually he doesn't just leave his hand there while he stares intently at your face like he's trying to figure something out unless he's trying to _talk_ about something.  
   
Jongin shifts his weight to his other leg, wary now. "What is it?"  
   
"You okay lately Nini?" Yixing's face has taken a sagely serious expression but his hand is still on Jongin's bum.  
   
"Yeah, why?" Jongin hates how hedgey he sounds. Yixing sees right through it. He gives Jongin's butt a final pat before moving to sit in front of him, right on top of the ripped paper, a couple pieces drifting to the floor with the disturbance.  
   
"You seem a little upset. Is this related to your new bae?"  
   
"My—What?" Jongin is very single, the last he checked.  
   
"Minseok," Yixing supplies.  
   
"I, You don't—Minseok? Fucking Oh Sehun," Jongin gets out, frustrated, words sticking together in his throat as they all try to express themselves at once. "He told you?"  
   
Oh Sehun is the Worst Best Friend.  
   
"Yeah," Yixing responds, looking apologetic. "Just me though, he just gets worried about you. Me too. I mean, is it serious, or like. Why don't we know already?"  
   
"It's not serious, it's just. It's a ridiculous squish that isn't going to go anywhere that I beat myself up for, for no reason. You guys don't really have to know, that's why I haven't said shit."  
   
Jongin sighs, slouching forward, laying his cheek on Yixing's thigh. From behind the counter, it might not look so innocuous, but it's a dead afternoon, and even if anyone was around to be wrongly offended, Jongin wouldn't care. Not even if they were _children_.  
   
"Then why are you so mopey?" Yixing asks, voice gentle.  
   
"I don't know," Jongin whines, sitting back suddenly. "Like, yeah, I want him to like me, but also it's more than that? I feel like it's connected to everything else I'm dealing with too, like, fuck. Like how I don't know what I'm doing with my life, how everything just keeps getting increasingly exhausting, and just how uncertain literally everything anyone does is. It doesn't fucking end, and you're not sure if it gets better, or if it's worth it, or what better even _looks_ like, and I feel awful because I barely know this dude, and I'm probably doing the ro projection thing where I'm like. Thinking being with him or someone at all is going to fix my shit, when it's fucking not, you know? I have no fucking idea what I'm doing or where all these feelings are coming from or what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing with them, and it sucks, and _I_ suck, and so does everything else."  
   
Yixing’s mouth twists, somewhere between sympathy and disappointment. “Okay, first of all, you don’t suck.”  
   
Jongin lifts a finger. “That. Is where you are wrong, my friend.”  
   
Yixing leans forward, elbow on his knee, chin in his palm, looking unimpressed. “Will you let me finish? Wasn’t it you that told me ‘Everyone has their insecurities’, ‘it’s normal to have them’, that ‘the trick is to find and surround yourself with people that make you feel like they don’t matter’?”  
   
Jongin squints. “No? Was I high when I said that?”  
   
Yixing looks blankly at him before chewing his lip, brows furrowed as he looks off to the side, trying to recall. “Did I imagine it then?”

Jongin cuts him off. “Also, while that is a sound ass piece of advice, I have you, Sehun, Taemin and Kyungsoo and I’m still a giant fucking mess, so-?”  
   
“I could have fucking sworn,” Yixing mutters. “In any case. Whether it’s really about this dude or if it’s like a Life thing, I really think you gotta-”  
   
And that is the moment that a flash from somewhere goes off and Taemin comes over to sit his ass on the counter. He doesn't even work here.  
   
"Did you know that from the doorway, it looks like you and Xing are making out?" Taemin says, holding up his phone to show the picture he just took.  
   
"We're scratching Taemin from the list," Jongin informs Yixing before he tries to shove Taemin off the counter at the same time that Yixing goes to lay across Taemin's lap. It makes kicking him off difficult, so Jongin just settles for shoving his shoulder instead. "You come into _My_ store-"  
   
"Actually, it's my store," Kibum calls over, carrying a microwave through the labyrinth.  
   
"Kibum's store-" Jongin tries again, before Kibum's interrupting him again.  
   
"Taem, get off the counter. Did you bring the thing?" Taemin reaches around in his pockets, disturbing Yixing, who is still laying over his lap, before pulling out what looks like a wicked ass knife in an ornate sheath.  
   
"Yeah, I got it." Taemin holds it out, and Kibum comes over so he can set it down on top of the microwave he's carrying before going back the way he came, not saying another word.  
   
"Dude, what the fuck-" Jongin starts, just as Yixing reaches up, rapping his fingers at Taemin's chest to get his attention.  
   
"You should send the pic to the groupchat," Yixing suggests. Taemin purses his lips, nodding in agreement as he taps away at his phone.  
   
"Wonder if Sehun'll freak," Taemin wonders aloud. "Whatever, it's sent."  
   
"Is there a _reason_ why you have a fucking _Ancient Blade_ that you're giving to Kibum?" Jongin asks, still bewildered and wondering why he’s the only one.  
   
"Don't worry about it," Taemin responds, eyes still on his phone. Yixing's on his phone now, too, head still pillowed on Taemin's lap.  
   
"Sehun is freaking," Yixing comments, already typing out a response.  
   
"Ye of little faith," Taemin narrates, as he types out his own reply to Sehun's _Yixing I swear to fucking god-_  
   
Jongin sits back heavily on the chair he was previously occupying. He is truly alone in this world.  
   
In his moment of self pity, Jongin fails to see the tiny ponytail making its way through the labyrinth and out the side door.  
 

 

Later, after Taemin has kept them from doing anything productive (Jongin could have found some other trash film to watch, for example) for another hour, he gets up off the rolling desk he was standing on (they had been shooting themselves across the limited space between the counter and the pile of toys that barricaded one side of the labyrinth using anything they found with wheels, with mixed results) to announce his departure.

“Okay dudes, I gotta dip, but I’ll be around later if anyone wants to sesh?” Taemin says, looking expectantly at both Yixing and Jongin.  
   
Jongin bites his lip. Minseok is at the café today. "I've got a thing, though."  
   
Taemin frowns, looking peeved. "What thing? You've always 'got a thing' going on lately. You never used to turn down a sesh, now you're always skipping out on doing shit with us."  
   
Yixing's eyes flick up to Jongin's, rolling the ottoman he was using under his foot. "Jongin's gotta do something for his dad."  
   
That sobers Taemin up immediately. Jongin should have thought of that. He has an estranged relationship with his dad, and it's not something he talks about a lot or brings up often, but they all know it's serious shit.

He honestly never would have come up with it though. He's a terrible liar and his brain represses a lot of his thoughts about his family situation anyway. In any case, Taemin is already off his ass about hanging out and Yixing is a genius.  
   
Taemin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, looking apologetic, turning to Yixing. "Okay but are _you_ doing something later, since Jongin can’t hang out?"  
   
Yixing's eyes near sparkle with mischief, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth before he responds, "Maybe Sehun if I'm lucky."  
   
Taemin scrunches his nose, clicking his tongue. "You fuckin dog," he tuts.  
   
"You did ask," Jongin says, shrugging. Yixing may be an angel, and one of the best buddies you'll ever have for life, but he's also nasty and transparent about it.  
   
"Damn," Taemin sighs. "I really gotta get some new friends."  
   
Jongin rolls his eyes, crossing his legs underneath him on the filing cabinet he's sitting on. "Don't you have a boyfriend or something," Jongin mutters. Of all the people to be complaining about needing better company.  
   
"Kyungsoo's on call this evening," Taemin answers, looking put out. "This is what best friends are for! When your boyfriend is busy being an adult! Earning rent money!"  
   
Yixing purses his lips. "You say this like Kyungsoo isn't both your best friend _and_ your boyfriend."  
   
"My other best friends!" Taemin exclaims gesturing at the two of them with a dramatic flick of the wrist. He pats his pockets for his phone, keys. "Anyways, later you losers. I've gotta go pick up, and I _was_ going to share my spoils with you but I guess I'll just have to enjoy them by myself because my _friends_ don't actually love me."  
   
Jongin makes to kick his ass, but from how far up he is, he doesn't get very far. "You'll fucking live. Learn to be lonely a minute."  
  
  
 

 

After work finds Jongin at the café.  
   
It’s a friday evening and there are some other sad people here, pretending to be productive. Jongin’s not sure if any of them could be considered more pathetic than he is, because he literally _could_ be out with his friends. But here he is, sneaking peeks at Minseok while he works, blushing like mad and sinking back into his seat when he looks over, all while nursing a coffee he won’t finish like a stubborn overgrown child with a crush.  
   
Today is a little better in regards to the coffee though; he’s made a little bit of a dent into the foam. Maybe he’s building up an appreciation for the stuff.  
   
Jongin’s biding his time in there, reading a tattered tome he’d swiped from work. It’s pretty fascinating. From what he can tell (thanks google), there’s a couple different East Asian mythologies interwoven into a modern time period, and the protagonist is having a relationship with an immortal or something and it’s kinda time and space bendy, and you never really know what’s going to happen next.  
   
Jongin’s a sucker for mystery novels, and the hedgey vibe plus the urban fantasy element of the work is very much his shit. Jongin just wants to know how the fuck this kid is going to physically dimension hop. Like is this mountain actually real or is it metaphysical. How does he get there if it's not part of the physical realm. He has so many questions.

He knows it’s not very explicit or clear at first for effect but like, fuck, how does that even work? _How_ are they fucking from different places. Jongin just wants to know.

His eyes stop on the page. Would Minseok be into reading something like this? He wonders what kinds of genres Minseok’s into, if any.  
   
Everyone’s into _some_ shit, right? He tries not to discriminate between types of media; after all, film and television are just as written and worked out as novels, visual or text. Does Minseok read comics? He looks up, wanting to imagine Minseok reading across from him, nearly choking on his breath when he sees Minseok _sitting at his table,_ right where he'd imagined.  
   
“Wh- Where, When?? The Fuck?” Jongin stammers, gesticulating between Minseok and the counter, where he’s usually working.  
   
Minseok just laughs, something painfully cute. It’s like the world gets more sparkly when he smiles. His teeth are so _small_. _He_ is so small. Jongin is going to pass out. “I was wondering when you were going to notice—you’re awfully invested in that novel. Is it good?”  
   
“D-don’t you have to be working?” Jongin stutters. He wishes he could slam his face against the table, but that would probably scare Minseok away Even More. “I mean, yes, it is.”  
   
Minseok just looks amused, eyes crinkling. He kind of looks like a cat. Jongin feels like a puddle of goo. How can someone simultaneously be pretty and handsome at once. How does he glow like that.  
   
Minseok just does a little sweep of the café with his hand (and Wow his hands are so pretty. Even his wrists are pretty). “It’s pretty dead in here, so I figured I’d come hang out with you, if that’s okay?”  
   
Minseok’s eyes widen with the question, head tilting, which is already really beyond the levels of cute that Jongin has the capacity to take, and the fact that he’s even asking and showing concern is doing things to Jongin’s stomach. Of course it’s okay, he wants to say. It’s very Very okay that you want to sit at the same table as me, and talk. It would also be okay if you wanted to date me, or fuck me, his brain supplies.  
   
“It—kay,” is what comes out of Jongin’s mouth. Because he is Cursed. “Fuck,” he swears, frustrated with himself. His cheeks are burning and he is a Fool. He shouldn't have let Yixing save him. He could be having a very low stress, low commitment evening with Taemin. Maybe Kyungsoo too, after he got off work.  
   
Minseok just giggles at him. Giggles. Jongin can’t even be upset because he glimmers like a fucking fairy when he laughs. “You know, I was actually a little nervous coming over to sit with you, but Baekhyun was right. You’re alright.”  
   
What does that mean? Jongin wonders. Alright? Does that mean that Minseok thought he wasn’t alright before?  
   
Noticing Jongin’s expression, Minseok quickly adds, “I mean. You know. Not as aloof and intimidating as I thought.”  
   
Now it’s Jongin’s turn to giggle. He laughs, hiccuping, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater. “You thought I was aloof and intimidating?”  
   
Minseok’s nose scrunches and Jongin is so gay. He is so incredibly massively gay. Even if Minseok is silly and somehow thought—”You’re very hard to read, okay? You’re really quiet and you don’t say much, but you’re also like—the café’s puppy. You’re always around.”  
   
I’m always around because I have a Massive Gay Squish On You Jongin wants to say. “So you… talk about me with Baekhyun?” he says instead. Very smooth Jongin.  
   
Somehow it’s Minseok that’s blushing. Jongin must be dreaming. How is this conversation happening. “Yeah, well. You’re a regular. We talk about all the regulars,” he says, looking down at his hands. “Anyway, I brought you a strawberry tart,” Minseok says suddenly, pushing the plate with the pastry toward him. There are so many things that Jongin doesn’t notice when Minseok is around. He could probably get hit by a car and not notice if Minseok was looking at him. This squish is dangerous waters.  
   
Jongin just squeezes his own thumb underneath the table. Not a dream. He sucks on his bottom lip, trying not to seem overly pleased. (Minseok!! Brought him!! A Pastry!! And it wasn’t part of his job!!) “How did you know I like strawberry?” he asks, taking a bite. It's delicious; just the right amount of sweet and tart.  
   
“I figured I probably wouldn’t want to be spending time with someone who didn’t appreciate the best item on our pastry menu,” Minseok replies, smile playing on his lips. Maybe he should give up on Minseok. Being around him seems to be really bad for his cardiovascular system.  
   
“So this was a test?” Jongin asks, smile tugging at his own mouth, licking over his lips in case there are any crumbs. He’s flirting back, oh god, oh god oh god oh god.  
   
“You could say that,” Minseok says, eyes flickering to Jongin’s mouth. Jongin is going to have a fucking heart attack and he’s going to die, and he’s not even really particularly upset about it. Cause of death: Kim Minseok looked at his mouth.  
   
“Actually,” Minseok starts, looking thoughtful. “I had a question. Why do you come in here all the time and order coffee when you like, never really drink it?”  
   
Jongin fumbles, nearly dropping his tart on the table. “I um. Like the environment in here, that’s all.”  
   
“But like…” Minseok hesitates, chewing the inside of his lip. “You could order something else off the menu, why latte?”  
   
Jongin’s brain is screaming at him because Clearly he has been found out, Minseok knows he's in love with him and his hands, time to abort mission. In his rambling, Jongin thinks he mentions something about wanting to build a tolerance to coffee when he sees Taemin through the window of the café, glaring at him. Fuck.  
   
Don’t come in, don’t come in, Jongin chants in his head, trying to indicate with his eyes that Taemin should Really Fuckin Leave. And because Jongin is Cursed, Taemin does not. He walks around to the front of the café, and barges right over.  
   
Minseok looks really concerned, not understanding what’s going on. Jongin just covers his face with his hands, peeking at Minseok through his fingers. “I am so sorry,” Jongin whispers. And he is. This is going to be ugly.  
   
Taemin comes over, looking livid. “Jongin, what the _fuck?"_  
   
“Didn’t you have something to do,” Jongin groans, dragging his hands down his face.  
   
Taemin smacks the side of his backpack. “Yeah, I picked up, like I said I would. Unlike you,” he accuses. “ _I’m hanging out with my dad Taemin, I can’t sesh, Taemin, I’ve got something important to do,_ ” he imitates, mocking him. Jongin didn’t even fucking explicitly say all of that but he can’t argue back. He’s too mortified about what Minseok will think of him.  
   
“I didn’t-” Jongin begins, trying to get a word in, calm Taemin down. By now, the whole café is watching them.  
   
“Didn’t what?” Taemin spits. “Unless I missed our entire childhood _this_ isn’t your fucking dad,” he says, gesturing at Minseok. “Who is this dude, is This who you’ve been blowing us off to see? Literally why the fuck are you even _here_ you don’t even drink coffee, much less care about this bougie organic hipster shit.”  
   
Jongin looks to Minseok, wanting to know everything is okay, to reassure him that he _does_ care about bougie organic hipster shit, _something_. But the look on Minseok’s face is one of apprehension and uneasiness, and it’s all Jongin’s fault.  
   
Baekhyun and Jongdae are starting to come over and everyone’s watching, and Jongin doesn’t know where to look, feeling suffocated and caged and the world feeling like spinning and _awful_.  
   
“Can we take this somewhere else,” he mutters, grabbing his stuff to storm out the door. He can’t be here anymore. Taemin follows after him.

 

 

They end up walking 6 blocks to the park, which, thankfully is pretty void of humans, not speaking to each other the entire way. When they get to the grass though, Jongin turns around to knock Taemin onto his ass.  
   
“Dude, what the _fuck?”_  
   
“I really fucking like Minseok and you just fucking ruined everything!” Jongin yells, tears starting to fall. He doesn’t fucking deserve this shit. “Today was literally the first time we had a real conversation because I’ve been too fucking scared to approach him, and you just _had_ to fucking come around, and now he’s never going to talk to me ever again!"  
   
Taemin sits up, leaning back on his hands, still looking pissed. “Well how the fuck was I supposed to know! You’ve been so fucking avoidant lately I have no idea what’s going on with you! You should’ve fuckin’ _told_ me, I’m your best friend, dude. Why keep this a secret?”  
   
His anger fizzles out by the end, something a little gentler in its place. Something like concern, care. It’s hard for them to stay mad at each other for long.

Jongin sighs. “Can we go sit on the swings?”  
   
Taemin reaches up for a hand. “You gotta help me up first, assface.”  
   
Jongin smiles at that, giving Taemin a hand. Even when things are confusing and messed up, at least he has this.  
   
“So,” Taemin prods, once they are sat in swings (after Taemin pushed Jongin to the ground, because it would only be fair).  
   
Jongin pushes off the ground a little, swinging slightly. “So…?”  
   
“Why were you keeping it a secret, you dingus,” Taemin responds, exasperated again.  
   
“Oh. Well.” Jongin tries to collect his thoughts. “It’s not, really that deep to be honest—I was just. Doing all this shit for someone who’s way out of my league and just.. Like even if something happened, which it wont, I just. It’s embarrassing?”  
   
“Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad, we’ve all been there. Squishes are always embarrassing.” Taemin leans over, knocking his swing into Jongin’s, the chain rattling.  
   
“Oh right. _Uh sorry dudes, I gotta go hang out at my squish’s work so I can stare at his unbearably beautiful face and marvel at his magic latte-art pouring hands, can’t come sesh today soz?”_ Jongin tries to imitate the voice Taemin uses to imitate him, brow lifting to further make his point.  
   
“You’re right that is pretty fucking bad,” Taemin says, pursing his lips. “I mean you could have left out what you were doing?”  
   
Jongin just rolls his eyes at him.  
   
Taemin kicks his foot over the rubber mulch. “Its okay dude, like. Maybe it sounds a little embarrassing, but like. It’s not like I didn’t crawl on my knees for years for Kyungsoo to fuckin’ notice me, you know? Also you can’t just be like ‘they’re out of my league I cant’ like. You never fuckin know. And besides, he came to talk to you today didn't he?”  
   
That’s about as close to peptalk as Taemin gets, and Jongin is actually really grateful. It means a lot, coming from Taem. “Yeah, you’re right.”  
   
Taemin pulls out a canister from his backpack. “Did you wanna light up?”  
   
It’s about as good as an apology as any. “Why not,” Jongin says, smiling for the first time since he left the café.

 

 

Minseok still feels awful. It’s been three days? Four? Since Jongin walked out that night, and he hasn’t turned up again. Being at work is stressful in a way that he’s really not accustomed to. He usually _enjoys_ being busy, but being here just reminds him of Jongin. Even Baekhyun and Jongdae are uncharacteristically quiet.  
   
This is why you’re not meant to get too chummy with customers, Minseok reminds himself. Still, he finds himself wondering if Jongin will ever turn up, so Minseok can apologize or, or something.  
   
He’s not even sure what he would be apologizing for, since it was really unclear to him what the _problem_ was. It seemed like miscommunication between Jongin and his...friend? Was that his boyfriend? Was that what it was?  
   
He nearly drops the frother he’s cleaning. Did he get all the signs wrong? Or, or was Jongin cheating?  
   
But it’s not like they were really doing anything. Minseok was maybe accidentally flirting a little, but he didn’t _know_. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.  
   
Someone at the counter clears their throat and Minseok looks around. Baekhyun and Jongdae aren’t out for some reason, so he sets the frother away to go greet the customer.  
   
“Hello, welcome, how may I—” It’s Jongin. “Hi.” Minseok feels his mouth pinching. This is fine. Stay professional.  
   
“Hey,” Jongin responds, looking apologetic and cute and so _lost_. Snap out of it Minseok. “I um, I wanted to—”  
   
“Caffè mocha, as usual?” Minseok asks, wanting to hurry this along. His heart is racing, and he’s already fucked this up, and _why_ isn’t Baekhyun doing this while he hides in the back room?  
   
“Um, actually, I just-” Jongin tries to get in, face falling.

“Don’t even worry about it, it’s on the house,” Minseok chatters on, in automatic mode, because he actually isn’t ready to see Jongin and _why_ is he acting like he’s getting broken up with, fucking get it together Kim.  
   
Minseok is too busy whipping together the fastest latte he’s ever made to hear Jongin finish his sentence—’just wanted to talk’.  
   
He finishes the latte with a leaf, although in his haste it ends up looking more like a feather, capping it and sliding it over for Jongin to take. His expression looks dark, and Minseok pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, realizing he’s maybe fucked up.  
   
“Thanks,” Jongin responds almost soullessly, taking the coffee and heading for the door. The bells on the door clang violently when the door closes behind him. Minseok has to turn away and close his eyes to collect himself.  
   
“What the fuck was _that?”_ Jongdae demands, throwing open the back door, Baekhyun close behind.  
   
“Dae, I don’t want to talk about it,” Minseok sighs, suddenly feeling exhausted.  
   
“We literally _gave him_ to you to fix things,” Baekhyun says, frustrated and talking with his hands. “You were literally _flirting_ last time.”  
   
“How do we know that person that came in wasn’t his boyfriend?” Minseok asks, irritated. This is _not_ his fault. “I’m just trying to keep things from getting messy.”  
   
Baekhyun rubs his forehead. “You don’t fucking think maybe Jongin came in today to try to do that too?”  
   
Minseok opens his mouth to reply, but the words die in his throat. “Shit.”  
   
“Yeah, ‘shit’,” Jongdae repeats, starting to pace. “Even _if_ that was his boyfriend, like, you could have fucking Not been a dickwipe and just sent him out when he was clearly just trying to talk? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”  
   
“Shit, shit, _shit_ , I didn’t even give him a chance.” Minseok slides down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and repeatedly hitting his head back against the cupboard.  
   
Baekhyun comes over to cushion the blows with his hand. “You fucked up, sweetie,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage.  
   
Minseok wipes a hand over his face. “I know.”

 

 

 

Minseok goes to Curiosity after the week is nearly over, and Jongin doesn’t show any sign of showing up. He doesn’t know when Jongin works, other than that he might be in today, since Minseok saw him here last week around this time.  
   
He smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand. He’s a Fool. He shouldn’t have just. Assumed. He could have sworn Jongin was talking about him with his coworker, but then maybe he was just. Hoping, or. Fuck, he’s overthinking again.  
   
Taking a second to take a calming breath, Minseok pushes open the door, heading toward the counter. Someone he doesn’t know is sitting there, but he seems to know exactly who Minseok is, snapping and pointing out the direction Minseok should head before going back to his magazine.  
   
Surprisingly, he doesn’t get lost before he finds Jongin, who’s rifling through an impressive selection of books, many of which seem to be old and unmarked. The shelves are distorted so they give off the illusion that the space around them is being warped, and it’s throwing him off a little.  
   
Jongin’s a little preoccupied so Minseok has to reach up to tap his shoulder. “Um. Hey.”    
   
Jongin turns around, slow but bodily cringing when he sees him. Minseok tries to not let his disappointment show. “Ah, hello,” Jongin greets, slowly untensing. “How did you—do you come here?”  
   
Despite himself, Minseok lets out a huff of laughter. Jongin is so cute and endearingly funny. Minseok scrunches his nose, trying to get his bearings. “I’ve been here once or twice before,” he answers.  
   
“And I never noticed?” Jongin frowns, bottom lip jutting out. He’s pouting with every word and it is Too Cute. “Seems unlikely.”  
   
Minseok rubs the back of his neck. “I uh—actually came here to...talk with you about that.”  
   
“Oh?” Jongin asks, frowning.  
   
“And to apologize,” Minseok quickly adds, holding his own fingers and rubbing at them with his thumb. God he’s so nervous. “Well, um, see, last week I was in here, and I thought… I thought you were talking about me, and um, well, Baekhyun and Jongdae have always been saying, you know, that maybe… But I just, I really just assumed, and I didn’t know that you had a boyfriend, and I’m really sorry for cutting you off when you came back last time, I was just really nervous and when I get anxious I just kind of do that? I’m working on it, and I’m sorry you had to deal with that it’s not fair to you-”  
   
Jongin’s face turns from embarrassment to wonder to excitement in a very short amount of time, and before Minseok gets any further he’s cutting him off. “Wait, wait wait wait. You thought _Taemin_ was my boyfriend?”  
   
“Well, I don’t know what his name is, but I figured, from all the yelling-” Minseok responds, a little taken aback. Jongin seems very enthusiastic and he doesn’t understand.  
   
“No, listen, I am very very single, and Taemin is just. He’s one of my best friends, we’re practically like. Brothers? We grew up together since we were in _diapers_.”  
   
“Then why did he-”  
   
Jongin pushes his hands through his hair, looking both excited and distressed at once. “He—fuck. He was mad, because our other best friend told him that I had a thing, with my dad, which is like a Very Serious thing and Taemin also doesn’t—he really fucking hates being lied to because being autistic makes it really hard to like, read people, so lying feels Extra unfair and cruel, and I love him to pieces and pieces but he’s really. Really not my boyfriend.”  
   
Minseok blinks, taking this in. “Oh.” This was much less complicated than it had initially seemed in his head. “Then, um.  If you’re not doing anything later, would you—would you like to have a date.. With me?”  
   
Jongin freezes for a second, looking afraid to breathe. How can someone so long be so _small,_ Minseok thinks.

“I’d, um. I’d really, really really like that.”

 

 

  
  
  
“Wait, so you never really gave me a straight answer about why you'd always come into my work and get a latte,” Minseok says, much, much later, after Jongin had stopped counting dates. He runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair, fingers gentle.  
   
Jongin huffs, blowing back his bangs as he looks up at Minseok from where he’s laying back against his chest. The film they just watched plays in the background, credits rolling. It was pretty good. Also urban fantasy, with a witch and his raven familiar, because Minseok did just so happen to enjoy that genre.  
   
“Because I was in love with you, you fucking fuck,” Jongin answers, grumbling.  
   
Minseok clicks his tongue. “How is that an answer, we barely talked _and_ neither did we fuck back then,” he says, shaking his head at Jongin as if he’d just answered a simple equation incorrectly. Jongin hates how soft that makes him feel.  
   
“StOPP!” He whines, turning to hide his face in his boyfriend’s chest, grumbling into his shirt. “I liked the way you did latte art. When your hands do things. It was really pretty and calming, okay?”  
   
“What about when my hands do this?” Minseok asks, voice husky but fingers just going to tickle under his sensitive underarms.  
   
Jongin giggle-shrieks, thrashing around trying to get out of his grip.  
   
(He’s not really trying to get out of Minseok’s grip).  
   
 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to come yell at me, say hi, show support or are just curious, links to cc and twt, etc are on my [carrd](https://pricklyteeth.carrd.co/)! im friendly i promise


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